One Green Hill
by Musae
Summary: In which Hermione decides it's time for a little soul-searching and proceeds to stumble into the realm of an unsuspecting fairy king. Light Tom/Hermione.


_I can't say I was in my right mind when I wrote this, but there we go! Mostly an AU, set in HP7. I was going for more Tom/Hermione, but apparently my mind had other ideas. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_Is all that we see or seem,_

_But a dream within a dream?_

-Edgar Allan Poe

...

Hermione just knew things were about to go spectacularly wrong.

Gryffindor's Sword had just been revealed to be a fake, and Ron had taken off in a great huff. Really, he was quite mad to skive off in the middle of a buggering war, but Hermione mustered enough sense to accept that he was experiencing a larger-than-normal Mood. The Golden-Trio-Minus-One was now left without immediate plans. Hermione, brilliant witch that she was, resolutely decided to think on the situation on her own. Surely Harry would be alright in their tent. Yes, it was time for a little soul-searching of her own, both figuratively and literally. She was certain that the situation could only be better from here onwards. It was one of those times where they could do with a little more optimism.

It was also one of those times where Hermione was fabulously mistaken.

...

Hermione had at last arrived at a small clearing in the forest with a lovely little pond sitting peacefully in its midst. She had concealed her path with a great many clever Wards and Charms. Already the lengthy trek had her feeling more level-headed about the entire situation.

"My, this is a rather charming pond," she remarked to herself upon catching sight of it. And really, it was quite something, as it caught and reflected the gloaming moonlight just so.

It had not occurred to her to notice the strange transparent quality of the ice, nor its extraordinary reflective properties, quite like a mirror. In fact, Hermione only felt an inexplicable desire to dip her hands and feet into its inviting depths. She proceeded to do just that, except that her foot caught on a traitorous root at the edge of the pond. Hermione had the good sense to splutter with outrage as the ice gave way and she plunged into the depths below.

Fortunately, Hermione resurfaced from the pond with no injuries sustained, other than that of her pride. _Well that's a dip if I've ever had _one, she thought grumpily to herself. Nothing a little Drying Spell couldn't fix. Unfortunately, she had little time to bemoan her misfortune and clumsiness as she took in her surroundings.

She was still in the forest, only it seemed…_greener. _The shrubbery seemed sprightlier, and the moon above seemed to glow that much brighter.

_Something was very wrong. _

Perhaps she had hit her head a bit too hard on the ice after all. Deciding it was probably safer to think up a better plan, Hermione began making her way back to the tent. Yes, thinking was safe and secure, oh yes it was.

...

Soon after Hermione disappeared into the trees, something quite peculiar happened. A tiny creature flitted into the clearing, ready to enjoy a dip in the pond. It had a mass of hair on its head, you see, black as night, and a point of pride for this little creature. It, or rather she, for it was a young and delicate female, was about to dive into the pond when it picked up a disturbing scent in the air. She inched towards the water and sniffed cautiously.

_Something was very wrong._

Her face took on an expression of absolute horror.

"But…b-but…but it smells like…_a mortal!_" she cried. Revulsion overcame the little creature. This was Bella after all, and Bella was a faerie of the Forest, and faeries had no great love for the likes of mortals. And what's more, Bella was a jewel among her kind – her terrific mass of hair gave her great status as a female faerie, you see – and her hatred of mortals was really quite Something Else. Thus Bella made it her life's mission to report the existence of a wretched mortal within the realm. But first, she had to complain to her mother.

...

Druella, reputable Faerie Mother, was as lovely as they came. Beautiful beyond her long years, and with the patience of a saint, this naturally led other creatures of the Forest to wonder how she produced an offspring the likes of Bella, who was as bratty as they came, and with a shriek that could cow a mandrake.

"_MUUUM!" _Bella shrieked. Druella sighed. Nothing ever went right with Bella's baths. She always did say there were too many leaves tangled into that extraordinary mane.

"_MUM_, _the most awful thing has happened! _The communal bath has been tainted forevermore by a…a _mortal_," she hissed the word venomously.

Druella raised one perfect eyebrow. She was a beautiful faerie, there could be no doubt, but certainly not a foolish one. It was time to put into motion a Very Cunning Plan.

"Oh? You are certain of this, little one? Then make haste and report this crime to our lord, the king!"

"But I'm not presentable!"

"When are you eve- Oh never mind that. Do you not see? Do this now, and we will be in the eternal good graces of the faerie king, _Handsome Bachelor Suprema_. Goodness knows it's about time we cemented the reputation of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."

"I guess," Bella moaned.

...

Hermione was utterly lost. She could have sworn the tent lay right here, but alas she had instead arrived at one very giant and formidable hill. Thinking the top would make an excellent vantage point, she decided to climb to the top. That had been before she remembered she had little stamina to speak of.

"Bugger this hill," Hermione gasped, "And bugger all this greenness! It's making my eyes hurt!"

She doubled over to take a much-deserved break, perching herself carefully, for the hill was quite steep. That was when a voice called out clearly from above her.

"I say, what's this!"

Hermione cried out in surprise. She had no time to catch a glimpse of the intruder before she lost her balance and was rolling back down the hill.

Hermione groaned, opening her eyes to find in dismay that she had ended up at the bottom of the hill. A mop of brilliant golden hair appeared before her then, crowned by a garland of wildflowers. A pale and pointy face was peering down at her with great interest.

Hermione gaped back. But this was…but surely not!

"_Malfoy?!" _she cried. What in the name of Merlin was Draco Malfoy doing out in the forest! Hermione barely registered Draco's interesting choice of flowery hairpiece, or the fact that he was wearing what appeared to be a very green and leafy ensemble. She froze. If Draco was here, then that had to mean they were discovered! Harry! Harry was in danger!

Hermione unfroze. Then she cursed loudly, and scrambled to retrieve her wand. Alas, it was nowhere to be found. She paused to stare at the face of Draco Malfoy, who was still blinking at her in rapt interest, when a moment of genius hit her.

Channeling her third-year self, she coiled her hand into a fist and struck out at Draco, landing an impressive hit right on his pointy nose.

Draco was sent flying back – faerie-kind can be quite delicate after all – gripping his nose and howling.

"My father will hear about this!" He cried in-between howls of pain, "And let me tell you, my kind live for a very long time and hold very long grudges, you _mud-wench!_"

It was then that a great and curious stirring rushed through the surrounding Forest. Hermione was sure the forest could not be any greener, and yet it _was. _

A soft and melodious voice spoke from somewhere behind her.

"What is the meaning of all this? I will not have such noise in my realm…how curious, what do we have here?"

Hermione turned slowly to gaze into a pair of very dark eyes. She half expected to see flecks of green in there, but there was none. Before her was an astoundingly beautiful young man, or what appeared to be. His head was crowned with dark locks that rustled gently in the breeze. Hermione imagined they must be very soft. He was draped in a shimmering cloak of darkest green, and Hermione distinctly felt that it was made of the very earth itself.

Best not anger him in any way possible, Hermione decided, especially in her wandless state. He looked to be Very Important. She swallowed thickly and raised her eyes to meet his. He was watching her with an expression of light amusement, his lovely bow-shaped lips quirked upwards ever so slightly on one side. Hermione found him beautiful, if not intimidating, whoever he was.

Without removing his gaze, the beautiful creature addressed one beside him. Hermione noted that this one greatly resembled Draco (who was still moaning pathetically on the Forest floor).

"Abraxas, what do you make of this spectacle?" he murmured.

"Your Faerieship, no doubt my grandson is engaging in his regular acts of idiocy…as for the mortal creature in our midst…she delivers an impressive uppercut, does she not?"

Hermione bristled. Mortal creature indeed! She couldn't comprehend the strangeness of everything here. Draco had apparently grown creative with his insults, and his supposed grandfather – who surely had to be dead by now – was standing here appraising her with all the snootiness under the sun.

Before Hermione had time to retort or muse further, she was interrupted by laughter. And what lovely laughter it was! She blinked. It was coming from the young man. Hermione deduced he was some sort of faerie king and therefore surely of Great Importance.

Gliding over to her gracefully, he spoke, "Not often do we encounter those of the mortal realm. Are you a witch then? For only those capable of impressive magic can enter my land. You have stepped into the enchanted faerie realm of Walpurgis. I am Tom, the faerie king."

"Erm." Hermione offered intelligently.

Tom laughed. "Perhaps a little game will loosen your tongue? Answer me this, human child:

_With potent, flowery words speak I,  
Of something common, vulgar, dry;  
I weave webs of pedantic prose,  
In effort to befuddle those,  
Who think I wile time away,  
In lofty things, above all day  
The common kind that linger where  
Monadic beings live and fare;  
Practical I may not be,  
But life, it seems, is full of me!__"_

Hermione blinked. Oh, a question. She was good with those. Yes, thinking was safe and secure. After a moment's thought, she offered:

"It's…a riddle isn't it?"

Tom laughed. "And so it is! They don't call me Tom Riddle for nothing, after all. And now, your name?"

Hermione, pleased with her correct answer – of course she was correct! – offered her name readily enough this time.

"There now, not quite so difficult, is it, Hermione?" Tom smiled, inching closer to pick up her hand and caress it lightly. Hermione could feel the beginnings of a flush creep up her cheeks. Tom's eyes twinkled merrily at her.

"You need not feel alarmed, Hermione. I understand mortals are given to overthinking everything, but faeries are gentle creatures of the Forest. A caress is but a kind greeting, such is our way."

Surely this was a dream, Hermione thought, a fantastic dream where Tom Riddle, The Dark Lord, was a perfectly amiable faerie king. Hermione resolutely decided that she liked him much better as a ruler of a very green Forest. Well! If that was the case, she was at full liberty to enjoy herself in the company of the faerie king! He was so very beautiful after all…

Hermione's lovely ponderings were broken by something very inopportune.

"_MY LORD!" _came an earth-shattering shriek.

Tom groaned. Abraxas sighed. Draco ceased his moaning and whimpered quietly to himself.

"How may I help you, Bel-"

"_MY LORD! _There is a mortal in our midst! AND SHE'S _RUINED _THE COMMUNAL BATH! And- oh! But you have her in your clutches already, my lord!" Bella's bellowing immediately transformed into malicious glee.

Hermione spluttered in horror and inched backwards, readying herself to flee up the hill, stamina be damned. _Faerie _Bellatrix was surely just as horrifying as the real Bellatrix, and her small faerie form only seemed to make her _more _evil.

"Surely this is Unforgivable! You must punish her for trespassing into our pure and most noble realm, my lord! How dare a mortal besmirch the good name of our faerie capital!"

Tom raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "The mortal need _dare _nothing, Bella. I am quite taken with this particular one. And- I say, Hermione, come back here, won't you?"

Hermione had by now reached the foot of the hill, and was in danger of tripping over Draco and crushing him in one fell swoop. Sensing her horrific unease, Tom approached her smoothly and swept her into a gentle embrace. Hermione gasped. Tom chuckled lightly into her hair.

"You see, Bella, you above all others should know that we faeries prize females with impressive hair, and just look at the untamed mass of this one!"

Hermione's eyes bulged. Her hand immediately shot out to smooth down her hair self-consciously.

Tom saw this and batted her hands away. "Oh, don't do that, my love, it is perfectly lovely as is. Hasn't anyone ever told you so? Mortals truly are strange. And what a lovely shade too! Just like the earthy walnuts of autumn."

Bella made a strangled noise. A mortal, in the arms of her beloved faerie king! Oh, but the girl did have impressive hair…even more so than her own. How Bella loathed mortals. With an indignant sniff, she fled away into the Forest. Mum would be absolutely livid.

Tom sighed, and not with a little relief. He was well aware of Druella's cunning, and fending off the advances of Bella was becoming more taxing than the orderly ruling of the Forest. It seemed a brilliant idea to dish her off to the Lestranges within the next century, as soon as Bella would be of age. Tom shuddered at the very thought of it.

He released Hermione, toying with a lock of her hair and smiling down at her reassuringly.

"I wasn't quite lying, you know. You are a fascinating little mortal, and I should quite like to play with your hair all the time, whenever I please."

"Oh," Hermione said meekly. Where was that blasted Gryffindor courage when she needed it?

"And besides, my Faerie Knights are becoming all too droll for my amusement as of late."

"Say what?"

"Never you mind, Abraxas."

"I think I'll tell Alphard what you really think of us…er, your Faerieship."

"Not if you want to be invited to my next Hallow's Eve Bonfire Dance, and I say, _stop-whimpering-Draco-you're-even-pointier-than-your-father-don't-you-know._"

"I did always say he's more ferret than faerie."

A little cough sounded. Abraxas and Tom immediately refocused their attentions onto Hermione, who was by now feeling rather antsy and irritated, more than lost. Merlin, when was she ever going to wake up and be on her way!

"Hermione love, how careless of me! We don't often play host to mortals, and have become rather rusty at it. I sense that you wish to return home, and indeed your friends are in need of you. Yes, I can sense such things. I have very impressive Faerie Magic you know. Oh, wizards and witches can have their bit of fun, but never doubt the true wielders of magic. You're on a certain large quest aren't you? To defeat a certain Dark Lord? Mortals are so fascinating, getting up to all kinds of strange antics…" Tom trailed off, winking at her.

Hermione felt it was prudent not to mention that this Dark Lord was _supposed _to be Tom himself, if that made any sense at all anymore.

"You'd best be on your way. And do be careful." Tom paused to gaze at Hermione meaningfully. "If you make it out alright, which of course you will, I am certain we will meet again. And when that day arrives…come back and be my Queen." Tom finished brilliantly.

Hermione gaped. "But this is just a dream!" She blurted.

Tom grinned. "Perhaps you will find that there can be a rather small difference between dreams and reality. Oh! And to prove my point, I think you will be needing this."

Tom proceeded to retrieve a brilliant sword from his cloak in a grand flourish.

"But that's the Sword of Gryffindor! How could you possibly…? But you're a Slytherin!"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Godric Gryffindor had to get his sword from _somewhere_. And he did always love to put a title to everything."

"I remembered he insisted on naming you the King of the Hill™," Abraxas offered helpfully.

"Details," Tom dismissed. "You'll be needing a ride back home, won't you?"

As if on cue, a gigantic Basilisk™ came bursting out of the bramble and bushes.

Hermione yelped in fright, quickly shutting her eyes.

"Oh relax, Hermione love. You needn't fear the basilisk's gaze in this realm. You see it gets so terribly dark in the Forest at night that we need its bright yellow eyes to light the way. It's really quite safe."

And with that, Tom picked up Hermione – his grip was unexpectedly firm and strong – and deposited her onto the back of the great serpent.

"Well…off you go I suppose. I shall be terribly sad to see you leave. Oh, and one more thing."

Tom reached for Hermione's hand, the one grasping onto Gryffindor's Sword, and clasped it gently between his. His other hand reached up to wrap in her hair, inviting her into a soft kiss. With his head tilted back, Tom's warm lips met her halfway. Hermione gasped against him, and he pressed more firmly against her. His eyes were shut tight, and really it was quite a solemn kiss, as if he was terribly afraid of letting her go. Hermione found herself thinking it was a lovely kiss nonetheless; tender and unrushed, with a promise of wonder and endless faerie magic. How tempted she was to stay with him!

They broke apart slowly, and Tom caressed her hair, her face, her hands. Hermione gazed down at him, perhaps for the last time. How lovely his eyes were, now that she was so close; they reflected starlight so beautifully. She found herself reaching down to brush her fingers tentatively against his cheeks. He closed his eyes at her touch.

"How sweet you are, Hermione. You would make a fine queen," Tom whispered gently.

Hermione found her eyes starting to prickle uncomfortably. Why was she about to cry? She hardly even knew him! And yet…and yet.

Before another word was said, the basilisk began to slither out of sight. Hermione turned to watch Tom, their eyes never leaving one another until she could no longer see him.

She was very quiet on the way back to the pond. She didn't know what to think. What could anyone think in such a situation?

...

Hermione found herself resurfacing in the pond with a mighty gasp. But where was the basilisk? It had disappeared, and not for the first time, Hermione wondered if it had all been a dream. But it could not have been, for in her hands she grasped a very corporeal, gleaming sword, and in her mind were memories of a tender kiss with a beautiful boy.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Harry bursting into the clearing.

"_Merlin's beard _Hermione! Where have you been? I thought you had left as well. Don't you know how dangerous it is to be out here alone? And what's that you have in your hand?"

Hermione blinked for a few moments. "Don't worry, Harry, I was quite safe, really…oh don't look at me like that, it's really quite true. I think I found something that'll be very helpful."

And Hermione stepped from the pond, shimmering droplets of water falling like a cloak around her, with the Sword of Gryffindor clutched against her. Harry couldn't help but think that she was a vision.

"But…what were you doing in a frozen pond?"

Hermione found herself smiling slowly.

"Oh…just doing some soul-searching."


End file.
